


New Traditions

by InTheArmsofaThief



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Christmas, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheArmsofaThief/pseuds/InTheArmsofaThief
Summary: Stiles fiddled with his phone, absently closing and reopening the same app over and over.  He’d been thinking about this day for months.  Well, for years, if he was being honest with himself, but the actual plan for this actual day had only started forming a few months ago.  He’d been thinking about this ever since he found out where Derek was.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oldestcharm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldestcharm/gifts).



> Here's my Secret Santa fic! I went overboard with the word count on accident haha oops.

Stiles fiddled with his phone, absently closing and reopening the same app over and over.  He’d been thinking about this day for months.  Well, for years, if he was being honest with himself, but the actual plan for this actual day had only started forming a few months ago.  He’d been thinking about this ever since he found out where Derek was.

It suited him, Stiles thought as he stared out the window of his Uber ride.  Derek was a wolf, but he was alone.  The preserve had always felt too isolated for a pack animal without a pack.  The city bustled with people, even at this time of night.  With the crowds and the skyscrapers, Derek could find anonymity where he needed to, as well community around every corner if you knew where to look.  Stiles hoped that Derek had found a way to reach out to others in the three and a half years since he left Beacon Hills. 

Lights lit up the city for the holidays, string lights wrapped around trees and windows.  It felt magical here, and not because of any real magic.  Stiles caught sight of the mountains in the distance and smiled to himself.  A city boy, yes, but never too far from nature.     

His Uber pulled to a stop outside of an apartment complex and Stiles handed him a large tip for driving on Christmas.  Stiles had spent the day before with his dad.  And the last seven months.  He had finished his associates degree that spring and was working a couple of part time jobs around town.  The plan was to take a year to save money before joining the police academy, but they both knew it was because he had one last unsolved case before he could work as a public servant. 

Stiles had to find Derek.

Derek had left Beacon Hills with Braden, a quick goodbye, and no second look.  He’d left without leaving a phone number.  In fact, Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek even had a phone.  Stiles hadn’t realized this until the urge to text or call, to reach out _somehow_ hit him like a truck and he was left the summer before senior year at a loss. 

When Braden came back to take down Malia’s mother, Stiles asked after Derek.  She hadn’t seen him since New Orleans, whenever that had taken place.  They’d gone their separate ways.  She gave him a number.  Stiles programed it into his phone and almost pressed call a hundred times.  Courage had always left him.

After graduating high school, when Stiles felt the most alone despite being protectively crowded by his friend and family, Stiles finally texted Derek.  **Hey.  This is Stiles.  How’ve you been?**

The punctuation and capitalization betrayed his nerves. 

Hours later, he got a response saying he had a wrong number, they didn’t know a Stiles.  For a moment, Stiles had frozen, terrified that he’d somehow been pulled back in to that nightmare where he simply didn’t exist in people’s memories anymore.  It wasn’t true.  He was sitting between Scott and Lydia. 

So, Derek had changed his number.  Or maybe he had copied it wrong from Braden.  It was too late now to double check.  

Stiles went to community college, not wanting to be away from his father, wanting to be in town just in case something else crazy needed his attention, also not being able to afford much more than the two years.  He didn’t feel like he was cheating himself on his education.  He was going to be a cop, not an FBI agent.  Besides, if Stiles really wanted to learn something, he would, regardless of taking a class about it.  Screw pricey accreditation. 

For two years he attended class, watched over Beacon Hills and the younger pack members while Scott was away, and spent his weekends trying to find any clue as to where Derek Hale might have gone.  Chris Argent had the same old number as Braden, and hacking into the postal services database to find a change of address was a federal crime that Danny would not help him with. 

It was the summer after graduating, when Stiles came home from his shift at Barnes & Nobles, that his dad slid a piece of paper across the kitchen counter to him. 

Stiles picked it up, confused.  It was a witness report of a man in Denver who had stopped a mugging.  It was a witness report given by Derek Hale.  Stiles looked up, surprise clear across his face. The sheriff shrugged.  “I’ve been keeping feelers out,” he said too casually.  Stiles threw his arms around his father and held on tight.  It wasn’t an address, but it was a current location.  Stiles could work with that. 

There were a handful of Derek Hale’s in America.  Roughly fifty-six if the _how many of me_ website was correct.  It didn’t take long to figure out if Derek had put down roots anywhere in Denver.  He was absent from social media, and he didn’t have a landline the get him in the phone book, but he had registered at the DMV and while hacking into that may also be a federal offense (was it? Stiles wasn’t sure), he hack into that without Danny’s help.  Stiles may have been teaching himself some things on the side during his years at community college.  No comment.

Stiles had stared at Derek’s Colorado ID for what felt like days.  It had been issued that year.  He looked good.  Derek had always been attractive, but he looked _good_.  Relaxed.  That was when Stiles noticed Derek’s birthdate.  His heart broke a little, thinking of all the years he spent that day alone. 

After mentioning this to his father, the plan was as good as set in stone. 

Stiles stared up at the apartment complex, hoping Derek was home.  He had booked a room for the night at a motel not far from here, but Stiles wasn’t sure if he was out of town, or just out for the night.  He didn’t know how long he should wait, and it was cold out.  Despite all this, Stiles knew he’d probably stand out there all night hoping for Derek to show up.

Before Stiles could walk up the steps and check the names at the buzzer, a group dressed for a party came out the front and Stiles slipped into the lobby.  His address had said apartment 518 so Stiles took the elevator and followed the numbers until he was standing outside of a door that looked identical to all the others on the floor.  Except this one sent his heart racing. 

Stiles took a deep breath and rapped his knuckles against the tacky purple door.  He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, at a loss for how much time had passed.  One second, ten?  A minute, five?  He shifted his weight nervously back and forth, a million thoughts flying through his head about how stupid this was.  Derek wouldn’t want to see him.  He cut off communication for a reason.  Why was this only occurring to him now?  He probably had friends over and didn’t want a reminder of his old life.  He probably –

The door swung open, Derek open mouthed and wide eyed.  He looked cozy, in a Christmas sweater and loose fitted, well-worn jeans. 

“Stiles?” he asked in surprise.

Shit.  Stiles felt like he was going to throw up.  Butterflies were having a mosh pit in his chest and five frogs were battling for space in his throat.  He blinked and was horrified at the start of tears in his eyes.

“Happy Birthday,” Stiles whispered.

They stared at each other for a few moments.  Derek closed his mouth and looked into the hallway, eyebrows furrowing in concern.  “What… what are you doing here?”  He looked back to Stiles, searching for something, Stiles wasn’t sure what.

Stiles cleared his throat and shrugged, his eyes drifting towards the ground.  “I missed you, you asshole.”  He forced himself to look up when Derek remained silent.  The older man’s face had gone lax, hurt maybe, surprised, unsure.   Derek’s face was expressive as ever, but Stiles still didn’t know what he was thinking.  Derek jerked his head back and stepped away from the door, a clear invitation.  Stiles stepped in and was greeted by the warm décor of a functioning adult.  It was a far cry from the loft back in Beacon Hills.  Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

“Do you want anything?” Derek offered awkwardly.  “Water?”

Stiles shook his head and yanked off his scarf and jacket.  “Nah, I’m good.  I – sorry,” he said, a sudden wave of self-consciousness sweeping over him again.  “Is this okay?  That I’m here?”

Derek’s face morphed into something soft.  Stiles felt his heart skip a beat. 

“Yeah, Stiles.  It’s fine.”

Stiles nodded and placed his jacket over the back of the couch, dropping his bag to the floor.  “I got you something,” he said, nervously going for the zippers of his backpack.  The small box covered in DC Heroes wrapping paper nearly tumbled out when he opened his bag.  “Uh, here.” 

He held his hand out, willing himself not to shake, until Derek came over and took the box. 

“Thanks,” Derek muttered, eyebrows knitting together like he’d never seen a present before.  The same swooping feeling Stiles had gotten first seeing Derek’s birthdate hit him now.  It was a sort of remorse for letting Derek be alone for all those years.  An anger that bad things had happened to the werewolf, a guilt that Stiles hadn’t done something sooner.  “How’d you find me?” he asked, not opening the present.

Stiles shrugged.  “You stopped a mugging.” 

Derek’s lips quirked up in the corner.  “Should have known that would have reached you.”

Stiles was glad he was still wearing his hoodie.  It gave him pockets to shove his hands into to hold himself back from doing something stupid.  Like slapping Derek for not keeping in touch.  Or hugging Derek for being right there in front of him.

“I get why you left,” Stiles said, “but why…” the words caught in his throat.  He coughed to clear it and turned his head away, taking in the apartment.  It was lived in.  Shoes taken off in random places.  A chair with a couple of jackets thrown over it.  There was an empty cup on the coffee table and a bunch of mail on the kitchen counter.  “Why’d you make it so we couldn’t even call you?” he finally asked.  Stiles was never good with silences.  He’d always speak his peace if you waited long enough.  Now that the question was out there, though, Stiles didn’t want to bury it with all his worries over the years.  He had to wait for Derek to talk.

Finally, he did.

“I was afraid that, if you called me, if you needed my help, I’d come back.”

Stiles nodded, pursing his lips together in an attempt to not just blurt out all the thoughts swimming through his head. He swallowed the hurt down and accepted the fact that Derek had to do it.  Stiles may have missed him, but Derek deserved to become a person away from the tragedies that followed him around back home.

“You going to open that?” Stiles asked, throat a bit raw from the emotions he was wrestling with. 

Derek looked down at the present in his hand, as if he had forgotten all about it.  “Oh, um.  Thanks,” he said, lifting it up in a sort of ‘cheers’ gesture.  Derek carefully pulled back the sloppy wrapping job, sliding out the non-descript box.  Stiles could have just stuck a bow on it and be done with it, but he wanted to make sure it looked like a birthday present and not a Christmas one.  Too many Christmas babies never really got to celebrate their birthday.  Derek least of all, because he had nobody left to remember. 

Derek glanced up as he set the wrapping paper down on the back of the couch next to Stiles’s jacket.  The brief look was full of curiosity and Stiles felt a surge of pride and excitement as Derek lifted the lid. Stiles scratched the back of his neck, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. 

“It’s, uh,” he stammered as Derek carefully picked up the pendent.  It was about the size of half dollar coin, an obsidian base with a carnelian inlay in the shape of Derek’s triskelion.  “Deaton helped me make it.  For protection and healing and good luck.  I mean, I hope you haven’t needed it or that you won’t need it, but I don’t know.  I’ve spent the last three years not knowing what happened to you and it got me worrying, I guess.  I never actually saw you, um, be safe?”  Stiles nodded to himself as if his babbling made any kind of sense.  “I guess, I just wanted to give you something to ease my mind.  Totally selfish birthday present, right?” he laughed. 

The pendent was attached to a black cord, easy enough to replace, turn it into a keychain or just throw in a drawer and forget about.  Stiles supposed it didn’t matter.  He came here for what he wanted to do.  Make sure Derek was okay.  Do what he could to make sure Derek stayed okay.

Stiles was surprised when Derek balanced the small box on top the back of the couch and tied the pendent around his neck. 

“You don’t have to actually wear it,” Stiles said sheepishly.  “I mean, it looks kind of tacky.  You’re cooler than that.  I probably should have factored your style into the pendent.  Should have made it out of metal or – ”

“Stiles.”

Stiles clamped his mouth shut. 

Derek walked over with a soft smile.  Stiles heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest.  Time seemed to slow as Derek reached out and place a warm hand over Stiles’s shoulder.  “Thank you.”

Stiles felt a single heartbeat like full concerto.  Then he really did something stupid.  Stiles threw his arms around Derek and held tight, a well of tears staining Derek’s shirt.

They had never done this before.  They had grabbed each other in times of duress.  Drowning, running, bleeding.  The closest thing to comfort came in mourning after Boyd, a moment where Stiles felt that a hand to the shoulder might be the only thing to keep Derek from falling apart.  There had been no reason to be close, before.  They weren’t friends.  It was a lie he told himself up until Derek left.  They weren’t friends, at least not the kind show their affection and worry the way Stiles and Scott did.  So, no, they never did this before.   

Derek’s muscles tensed in surprise, but Stiles didn’t let go.  He didn’t think he could just yet.  Stiles squeezed tighter, worry washing over him that Derek hadn’t been held in the last three years.  It was ridiculous, he knew.  Derek had been with Braden when he left town, and surely even with his loner tendencies, he would have found someone.  But Derek was alone on Christmas day it was suddenly all too upsetting that Derek had been home to answer the door. 

Then Derek’s arms came around him, hands settling in the crook of Stiles’s back.  “I missed you, too,” Derek whispered. 

When they let go, Stiles felt less embarrassed about his actions, but still nervous to be there.  He somehow found himself on the couch with a mug of hot cider in his hands.  Derek asked about everyone back in Beacon Hills, sitting with his own steaming beverage on the other end of the couch.

“They’re fine.  Things are settling down a bit.  Nothing super crazy happens anymore.  Scott has another year and a half of college before going for his vet license.  Malia went to trade school for carpentry.  Turns out she likes making stuff.  Lydia’s out at MIT.  The youngins are home for break from their first semester at college, but I think they’re doing fine.”  Stiles set his warm mug on the coffee table.  “I saw them all earlier this week.  Spent yesterday with my dad.  I just, I wanted to make sure I got here for your birthday.”

“It’s still Christmas.  You normally spend that with family,” Derek said, taking an absent sip of his cider. 

Stiles looked at him.  Really looked.  “Is that why you’re here by yourself?” he asked. 

Derek looked at him over the rim of his mug.    He seemed to collect his thoughts before too casually setting his drink down.  “I was invited to a few parties by coworkers.  I don’t think any of them knew it was my birthday or I wouldn’t have heard the end of it.  Only been working there for a few months, so.”  He shrugged.

“So why didn’t you go to a party?” Stiles asked, staring at Derek intently.  He always had been a puzzle.

“I went to one yesterday,” he said.  “Showed my face enough.”

Stiles snorted.  “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind seeing you again.  I mean, I came all this way just to see your grumpy eyebrows for myself.  You’re like a walking Mona Lisa.”

Derek scrunched his brow.  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh, there was a second Mona Lisa painting done by an apprentice, probably, and it had eyebrows, which was a big topic of discourse among the art community for sometime.  So I guess, you’re eyebrows are special and people are really excited to see them?” Stiles blinked a few times after finishing his rant and then darted a hand out for his mug of cider, nearly spilling the drink over in haste to take a sip.  He had never actually learned to shut up. 

Derek shook his head, eyes gleaming in amusement.  “Good to see you haven’t changed.”

Stiles leaned back into the couch with a frown.  Had he changed at all?  Stiles could hardly remember who he was back when he and Derek first met.  And it’s been longer apart than the years they knew each other.  He supposed it didn’t matter if he had changed or not in Derek’s eyes.  Maybe it was a good thing that Stiles still did research binges and blabbered about it.  It meant he wasn’t so far gone. 

“You have,” Stiles said softly.  He noticed Derek startle at the comment.  “You seem a lot more relaxed now, I guess.  You haven’t rolled your eyes or yelled at me once,” Stiles smirked.  “You’ve made this place a home,” he continued, looking around at the settled in nature of the apartment, the personal touches, knickknacks and poster prints, bookshelves and DVD collection.  “When you lived in the loft, it still looked like you were just squatting somewhere.  You have a job.  What do you do?”

Derek rubbed at his cheek as if trying to wipe away a blush.  “I’m a park ranger,” he muttered. 

Stiles laughed.  “That’s amazing!  I love it.”   He turned his smile onto Derek.  “You’d be good at that.”

Derek huffed.  “Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a bit.  Stiles took a drink of his cider for something to do.  It was still hot against his tongue, and a bit spicy.  Stiles wondered what Derek made it with.

“Christmas was always a big holiday,” Derek said suddenly.  Stiles looked over.  He was staring out blankly to the far wall, not able to look at Stiles, or anything, as he talked.  “We had lots of family come over.  Aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, family friends.  I always hated it.  It was my birthday and I had to give my bed great uncle joe and crash on the floor of the playroom with the other male cousins.  All my presents were joint presents, you know?  Only my parents got me something separate, but it never really felt like that.  It just felt like a stupid extra present.

“As I got older, I would storm out, spend most of the day in the woods until Laura came to drag me back.  I regretted that a lot, after.”  There was a pregnant pause as Derek remembered which family members he had lost.  It was more than just his parents.  Even with the reemergence of Cora, that was still seven people.  Stiles wasn’t sure exactly who all he lost, Derek had never opened up that far.  All Stiles knew from the report was the number.

“When it was just me and Laura, she’d get me a cake from the grocery store.  She didn’t want to celebrate Christmas anymore.  Hurt too much.”  Derek rubbed at his eyes.  Stiles didn’t think he was crying, he just seemed tired.  “First year without her, well,” Derek shrugged.  “I was asleep in a cave in Mexico, so that didn’t really phase me much,” he huffed a dark laugh.  “By the next year, Braeden and I had already split ways.  I was traveling, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.  It came and went and the actual day I don’t think I even really noticed.”

Derek finally looked Stiles’s way.  “The last two years I’ve tried to find a new home, I guess.  Had never lived anywhere long enough to be invited over to some one’s, let alone tell them it’s my birthday.”

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, the little pain focusing his thoughts.  “So that’s your tradition?  Not let yourself get close enough to anyone to celebrate anything?”

“I guess so yeah,” Derek muttered, sitting back in his seat and picking up his mug of cider again.  Stiles’s own was getting cold.  “If I weren’t a werewolf I probably would have fallen victim to some very self destructive habits a long time ago.  I think isolation on Christmas isn’t too bad.”

Stiles swallowed around the sense of how _wrong_ that sounded.  How sad Derek still was.  How resigned and accepting he was of this cloud that kept him cold and in the shadows.  Stiles knew in this moment that this was why he really came here.  Why he had never stopped worrying about Derek Hale.  Stiles knew they were similar.  They both blamed themselves for things beyond their control, and were willing to punish themselves for it.  But Derek didn’t deserve it.  And if Stiles couldn’t help himself, he could at least help Derek.  And maybe, if Stiles was lucky, they would pull each other out of the shadows. 

“I’m Jewish,” Stiles blurted.

Derek’s forehead scrunched together.  “Really?”

“Mom’s side.  Grew up doing both holidays.  Christmas was always a lot smaller because of it.  Hanukkah isn’t even that big of a deal in Jewish religion, it just gets hyped up at this time of year because of Christmas.  Still fun though,” he said.  “But it’s also why it was so chill for me to just dart out on Christmas.  Dad and I, after mom died, we sort of celebrated Hanukkah more than Christmas to sort of respect her, I guess.”

Stiles let his head fall back, taking in the ceiling for a brief moment to gather all his strength on this matter before turning back to Derek.  “What I’m trying to say is, you know, we don’t have to celebrate Christmas.  I wouldn’t miss it.  Christmas is more about the season and the atmosphere than the day, anyway.  But, like, I’ll celebrate your birthday with you.  Because everyone deserves that much.”

Derek stared at him in stunned silence.  Stiles could see the racing thought’s behind the man’s pale hazel eyes.  Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what he just offered.  To come visit ever year?  To move out to Denver with Derek?  To be his friend when he had no one else?  To be his friend even if he finds someone else?  Stiles’s heart skipped a beat waiting for Derek to reply.  To be something more than friends?

That hadn’t been the purpose of this.  Stiles hadn’t waited almost four years to make a love confession.  Stiles hadn’t even really thought of Derek that way back then.  Sure, he _cared_ for the guy and pushed himself to his limits just to make sure the sourwolf didn’t end up dead, and yeah, Derek’s always been stupid levels of hot.  But that didn’t mean Stiles wanted to kiss him.  Okay, maybe a little bit, but again, stupid hot.  But Stiles hadn’t wanted to date the guy.  That was illogical.

But Stiles had never stopped thinking about Derek.  He had never stopped searching.  And now he found him and saw his bright eyes, the relaxed slope of his shoulders, the mugs of hot cider, the framed poster of a Lichtenstein on one wall and the framed poster of a map of Middle Earth on another, the pile of Entertainment Weekly on the floor next to the couch like he never got around to reading them but always meant to, and god damn it the look he was giving Stiles right now.  Now that all that happened, Stiles still didn’t know what he was offering, but he knew he didn’t want to leave.

“You want to make a new tradition?” Derek asked softly, breaking the silence.

Stiles smiled.  “More than anything.”

X

Stiles closed the blinds to hide the frankly aggressive Christmas lights shining across the street.  The apartment was decorated to the nines in blue and orange party streamers and an unhealthy amount of balloons for a party that didn’t include children. 

“Come on, Der, they’ll be here any minute.  You know how much Scott hates hanging out around the hotel, you know he’s left early, and Joanne’s no better.  You remember when we were supposed to pull a surprise party and she showed up before Rita even got Henry out of his apartment?”

Stiles marched over to their bedroom and flung the door open to find Derek painstakingly try to get a lone curl of black hair to stay in place.

“Yeah that’s never going to work,” Stiles said.  “Just let me cut it if it’s going to bother you.”

“You’re not coming anywhere near my hair with scissors, Stiles.”

“I have a license to carry a gun and you’re worried about my hand slipping?” Stiles scoffed.  He came over and tugged Derek’s hand away from his hair.  “You look perfect,” he whispered before kissing Derek’s cheek. 

“Your police buddies going to behave?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged.  “I can make no promises that they won’t try and start a pissing contest with your fellow rangers, but if you give them that sad disappointed look, they’ll stop.  They like you for whatever reason.”

Derek smiled.  A genuine smile.  Brighter than any Christmas display.  Stiles heart thumped double time like it always did when Derek smiled at him like that.

“Okay, fine, what did you need help with again?”

Stiles pouted.  “I can’t figure out the stereo system.  You changed things around again and while I could just throw Pandora on the Roku I don’t really want to be interrupted with random commercials and also I want to play DJ.”

Derek laughed.  “Yeah, okay, I’ll show you.  Again.  How are you the technology incompetent old man in this relationship?”

The offended sound Stiles made caused Derek to laugh again.  He pushed Derek, who pushed back.  When the doorbell rang, there was still no music and Stiles had rubbed a balloon so fast against Derek’s head that it was sticking to his hair.  He still looked perfect.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know there's discourse as to when Derek's actual birthday is and that more evidence says it's in November than on Christmas, but I liked that idea too much to pass up :)
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> [FIND ME ON TUMBLR](http://www.inthearmsofathief.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also! I'm made a webseries about werewolves! [The Werewolf Diaries](http://www.youtube.com/c/amyberserk)


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